The heart

The heart is a cheater. What you put your mind into, your heart fails you. It's so hard to make resolutions. Decisions. Coz in the end it's still your heart that matters. Not your brains. What your heart has done, if it moved people, if it cared, if it loved. Regardless if its worn out or tired, or broken.

Then I think of the many times that I have failed my heart. That's the irony, sometimes you follow your heart and yet you still break it. And maybe, if I considered my senses, maybe I'd save my poor heart the pains.

Only time can give me peace now. And prayers. My heart has to rest whether it feels like it or not.

irony

I am my own enemy

I crush my own self

I give myself confidence

And give me some fears

I drive me to sorrow

I bring myself tears

I dream

Then I forget

I try

Sometimes I regret

I push me forward

And hold myself back

Oh When will this irony end?

Convincing myself

Love hurts. That's one truth.

But love takes away hurt. That's another truth.

Which side are you? If only we can get to choose My friend. But we can't, we can only try to win one side- the one that doesn't hurt us in the end. Let me put up the banners and congratulate you for allowing yourself to love. Because that is the time that you also open up to hurt. Now that you have loved, you realize that no matter how many times you cross your fingers, love will not follow you. It will not meet your demands. But you can enjoy moments, keep good mem'ries and learn to love more. Love like you've never been hurt. But pack the lessons from your past. Silly love... Silly me, I guess I was talking to myself...

on One True Thing

"My love...It's so easy to love the things that you have..Let go of what you're missing or what you're imagining you're missing.."

Said in a movie I watched this lazy afternoon. True. That's what I can say. Hard. That's another. Won't life be so much easier had we practiced this day by day? Must we cling on to what has slipped away? The time that flied? The words unsaid? The touch that we could have easily given? Can we not love what runs in our lives right now?

I so want to. If you've figured it out. Do let me know.

Turning Point at 20

I wrote this when I turned 20, just about the time the big hand reached 12. I wonder how far I've gone since.. seems I drifted away.. I gotta bring myself in

As I look back to the twentysumthing years of my life, I incessantly wonder as to how I spent it, whether I lived up to what it was supposed to be. I try to figure out if I’ve already had enough pain and happiness to arm me into the bigger world that awaits. I try to see how many lives I’ve touched and how many have stepped into mine. From how I was before and how I am now, I try to get a clear picture to know who I really am and if I am in the right track of my life, if I am in the right direction, or if I should go on. I don’t know if I’ve become wiser or more mature ‘coz I know at times I’m still that silly little girl. And I’m quite sure I’d never fully shed off my girlish ways. But I take pride in that: of my insecurity, of my being childish, of my being vulnerable, and battling ‘em all –feeling great in who I am now. A lot of things await and it’s undeniably scarier, more serious, and larger than the life I’m accustomed to. But I’m standing on firm ground and there’s no other way but up.

My First Wish List

1. Chocolates grow on trees
2. Rainbows are also formed at night (imagine vibrant colors against a black sky)
3. A hug makes you forget about pain
4. Ants bring us sweets, not take them
5. Birds could really deliver letters, and kisses too!
6. Trees hug us back when we hug them
7. Cars could be run by singing
8. Fairy godmothers are real
9. Rocks are edible (so there'll always be something to eat)
10. Smiles can travel across the miles
11. Humans can jump like kangaroos (it'll be more fun watching d Olympics)
12. Love is spread like a flu
13. There's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
14. Worms could stop earthquakes
15. Stars can be seen in the sunlight, and fall too
16. We can also breathe underwater
17. A sneeze means a granted wish

Per Aspera Ad Astra

You heard me right. Ya gotta go where the bumps are. Choose the difficult route so to speak.

But why the heck?
Who in his right mind wants to go through the loops, humps, thumps, and all the hoolabaloo?
Why choose the long path when there's a shortcut?

Well, much as I also hate it...
IT'S THE WAY UP.
Only when you tread along a journey of sticks and stones will you learn to appreciate what you have, where you are, and who you've become. Reality is, there's an easy way out. Cheating your way out of something is not only tempting but is also the more popular choice. But I never believed it when they said majority wins. Only a few stand up and meet the challenge. It's best to put yourself to the test 'coz only then will you realize your strengths and weaknesses. Gain the experience. Earn the respect. And you'll be soaring high. You just need to believe that you can do it. Be bold and daring so that you can better yourself.

I guess it seems crazy. Seems like I ask you to face a difficult life. But it's all a matter of perspective. When you look at losses as opportunites for growth, you're on the right track.

Take the rough road and you'll be traveling light.

Per Aspera Ad Astra
A rough road leads to the stars.

Author's endless note: This just bumped me. Whatever happened to me? I gotta put down the cynicism I'm wearing, try on my old self.

Swearing Redundancy

They said you’re sweet. They said you’re bitter

Bitter Sweet. I don’t remember

They said you’re just around. Been here since ever

Why can’t I find you? Why do I hunger?

You make people crazy. You make them forget

You change them. You make them regret

You make them smile. You make them cry

Why do you do it? I wonder why

Why do you come and go? Why is it hard for you to stay?

Hard to find you. Hard to make a way

Why does everyone want you so bad? Why do I feel that way too?

Why can't I have you in my life? Why can’t I live without you?

L O V E

p.s. i honestly think love is silly

but it keeps me alive

though it hurts me now

somehow ill get by

maybe next time ill get lucky

maybe he’ll find me

Author's note: Need i say more? how anymore redundant can i be??? i posted it @ xanga last january 21, 2005. shessh 2 years and i never learned anything.

Fairytale gone bad

I try so hard

Not to cry

Not to think of your goodbye

But I can’t make my eyes dry

Tell me how can i?

When all I think is you

Wishing we weren’t through

But you don’t feel the way I do

How can I not be blue?

Was I wrong to fall

Should I have stopped when love was small

‘coz now you built this wall

why now when you’re my all?

It hurts to think I’m now your past

Things have changed for you so fast

No more magic spells to cast

For you the fairytale has last

Author's note: highschool, shoot me.

Beauty of Strangers

*a story last last year

yesterday, I was on my way to Booksale, hoping to scavenge some Grisham novels, when this sprightly guy came up to me. I kinda noticed him walking by my side early on but paid no attention and went on with my short, fast strides. Out of nowhere he asked, “Miss are you in a hurry?”

wait: what’s up with guys’ pick-up lines?

i wanted to say none of his business but thought it better to reasonably answer, “nope, I just walk fast” It’s a complex situation when strangers come up to girls. If we accommodate them, we’re a flirt. If we don’t we’re a snob.

so I thought: well he looked harmless. Besides I can give a good kick, a quick run, and a loud howl, if necessary. Que sera sera…

eventually, this stranger had a name: Michael. Though I never asked, he gave me a brief rundown about his age, occupation, address, I didn’t catch the others. If he wasn’t tagging along my side and I saw him in a crowd, I’d say his shy. But I’d say no shy person could ask a girl (whose also a stranger to him) if she has a boyfriend, tell her he’s attracted, and ask if they can talk, all in less than 5 minutes.

my response: I asked him if he was gonna sell me something or invite me to join his networking group. I couldn’t help but ask further if I was on a gag show. (Yes, I kept on looking for the “hidden cameras”).

He kept on asking for my #, trying to win me with that flash of bedimpled smile.


again i was thinking... Should I give it? Why not? Digits don't hurt...

I… didn’t give it. So goes the thought of serendipity, destiny, fate, and all that crap—crap I embarrassingly crave for. In the midst of my presently-crazy-life, I was contemplating if this Michael guy is God’s sign. What the heck, I let him go, with the thought of seeing him again left to the 6 degrees of separation. Actually, I don’t regret it. The 15-minute could-have-been-newfound-love has gone as fast as it came. Know what, it’s all right. This stranger brought about a stupid smile on my face. I felt God giving me a pat on my shoulder telling me to take it easy and chill. That happiness could be found in other places.

i realized: We ask God to make us happy but we are fixated on where we want it to come from. Happiness could be found elsewhere.

I didn’t at all feel strange towards that stranger. He could be an angel, I’d never know. But one thing’s for sure, he left me feeling good about myself. So what happened: here’s my line, “It’s not that I don’t wanna talk to you…” he cut me off, said ‘twas all right, smiled, and left. I smiled all the more. I’ve been sulking all week then he came and lit up my face. Things may not be better for me but I’m still wearing that smile. Hmm… isn’t life beautiful?

p.s. to Michael, thanks!

Author's note: This was like 2005. I was lamenting with a soon-to-be-ex or pseudo-ex when I met this gutsy guy. A few months after I worked in the same company he told me about, I never did see him again. I guess angels are just like that :)

A Note for the Cheesiness

Okay, I just realized I've blogs here and there. So in my effort to organize and savage my past write-ups, I'm dumping it all here. Be forewarned it's extremely emotional. Not that I've become more mature. I'm still, like I label, an emotional idiot.

My First Try of An Autobiographical Essay

Seven months after attending my parent’s wedding in 1982, my presence being a tiny living being in my mother’s womb, I was born into the world. It was five minutes past one in the morning of August 12, to be exact.

Then on, I’ve been collecting memories of myself: the oldest dating back to my Valedictory speech in Kinder 1. I was pretty much an academic kid. Apart from vying for honors, I joined every single Quiz Bee that I could, and never won any. There was one time at fourth grade where I almost won the Math Bee, it was sheer luck. Thank God I ran out of it else I would have represented our school and that would have been one big miscalculation of my elementary life.

Early on, I was a quiet kid in class. It was usual for me to be called by my teacher to stay in front and write the noisy. But that was before I discovered that I was capable to be loud. So I became a cheerleader, declaimer, orator, extemporaneous speaker, debater, but never a singer.

Debate: the art of persuasion that started my caffeine habit, a politically correct term for addiction to java. I loved the thrill of ignorance. That’s what I call it – the 7 minute rush: when you talk of something you have no business delivering. It amazes me how I get away with it. I think it’s my knack of seeing things around. I believe you can always find if not a contradiction, a back story, an odd example, or maybe more questions – to anything about life.

So for the finer things in College, less stressful than the readings and the pressure of the podium, I immersed myself in theater. I loved calling myself a thespian I always felt it had a sophisticated or artsy ring on it. I had fun with the stage, the bowing, and the flowers—it always was a natural high.

Despite my extra-curricular, I finished my schooling at the age of 21. I’ve had a handful of experiences and qualities that I blithely laid down to the interviews I went to after. So now, I’m a yuppie, a woman, and an on-going work in progress.

An autobiographical sketch could only say the very least of myself. I’ve had a fair childhood, a self-enriching high school, a self-exploring college, and self-satisfying life after. Now I go after what I want but I don’t deny the crossroads of uncertainty. I worked pretty hard to be where I am at now and I know there’s so much more out there. I am convinced I have the best memory in town. And I could still very much remember the details of my memories that I’ve written above.

But those were moments. It is usually the constants that count. Like friends, family, chocolates, and writing. These four are my sanctuary. It goes beyond my surmise in falling stars, good people, true love, patience, or Batman.

Cleoptara and I

Tonight I discovered something about myself. The date I was born was the same day that Cleopatra committed suicide (well not same year of course Cleopatra did her thing way back 30 BC).

I was reading about her and caught myself both fascinated and appalled by her hedonistic approach for power. She slept with great men and seduced them to love her and carry her to the throne. Well she did offer herself in a red carpet--worked for Caesar. Worked for Mark Anthony (her boyfriend after the death of Caesar, her ex). She even married her brothers! And this woman wasn't known with her physical attributes, it was her cunning, charm, sharpness that made her the most endearing woman in her time. Cleopatra. The greatest strategist, if I may say. Too good, that she orchestrated her own death. She had an asp (Egyptian cobra) brought in to her where she gave way to two venomous punctures after a great meal. What a planner.

Cleopatra and I: not nearly the same. Queen of The Nile vs Queen of Denial. What she knew and how she knew to get what she knew is a contrast to what I don't know and don't know how to get what I don't know. Where she never stopped to get what she wanted I never stopped to think of what I couldn't get. For every right man she loved was a wrong guy I've dated. She died when I lived. Besides, I could never ask for an asp but who knows maybe I just might roll myself in red carpet. (*wink*)

Cruel sensation

You know that sudden gush of feelings - that split second of reality where images are flashing in your mind - as if you're gonna die except it's the thoughts that you'd hate to think about. When you're body goes numb, your heart beats faster and then you're restless. Then your nervous or more so scared of the truth. This. This is heartache. A cruel sensation. Kinda like the rush you feel when your crush is right at your back but heartache tells you that he has left you, that he's leaving, that he was never yours.

The really bad part for some is that heartache is not equal to tears. They said tears are the healing agents. But not everytime you feel bad you cry. You don't get the consolation of at least pouring it out. Sometimes, for some, like me, it's stuck. My ducts are useless. And with the absence of tears, my heart pounds all the more, hurts me, and eats me alive.

I am physically feeling my emotional distress. My tears are not cooperating. I will stare at the monitor while my heart bleeds. Somebody please...

Movement

Move. It's one of the first things we're taught when we were still babies. The opening and closing of our palms (and our momma would sing close-open-close-open), crawling, sitting, standing up, then walking. The day we started to walk that's the day we carried life in our backs.

The bad news is we weren't told that once we start, we cannot stop. That it is unacceptable for us to go back to sitting down or crawling when we get tired. Even if we don't know where to go, we're supposed to move. Past the crossroads. Past the checkpoints. I think it is the pressure of movement that leads us to our demise or fortune or plain dumb luck.

A New Proverb did say , "Any leap in the dark is better than standing still."

So what if something bad happens at least there was something. But doesn't this defeat the essence of waiting? Why can we not wait for better days to come? Why do we close our eyes to bitter possibilities and move? Is it because we are strong?

Or numb?

Movement. We do it because it gives ur partial answers. Enough to get us out of the bed. Because lying down gives us more questions. With or without the presence of hope, we struggle. Even if we're in pain. Why? Because tomorrow is right there.

I say, "Bring me closer tomorrow because I just can't stand today."

Pain

Grey says:

Pain, you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own, hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answers, you just breath deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time pain can be managed but sometimes the pain gets you where you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. Pain, you just have to fight through, because the truth is you can't outrun it and life always makes more.

Me adds:

Pain, it's temporary. The sooner you face it, the more you bleed, the sooner it all goes away. This is not even proven. Why is it though that it's easy to know we're in pain but it takes a lot to say we're happy?

Textbook Cynic

I've actually looked it up @ www.dictionary.com. I've seen textbook. I've seen cynic. And yet I'm still struggling with the thought.

I was told I try hard. Too hard to be cynical. But I speak it. Write about it. Think the "Other Way" And yet I still do not pass for such.

Give me a break Life bitches a lot. And I'm the girl who walks in the rain like its sunshine. Who makes lemons - to go with tequila (hehe). Who believes in trying and trying until it feels good... Until such time that the trying becomes tiring. Therefore, the cynicism. Albeit I'm not used to being seen or heard this way, this is just what I'm wearing now. However trying-hard it may seem. I know I don't have the gutts and the heart to be cynical. Beyond my spiteful words and acid-tongue, there really is no negative bone. So I guess it's like wit, textbook wit. It's there but not really there. Like my cynicism.

It's just that You know sometimes you gotta have these sardonic and reclusive moods. And pretend to be cynical. --To protect yourself. To nurse your pains (temporarily) To shield you from vulnerability. Forget failure, forget that you weren't enough, that you didn't deserve shit and yet it's in your face. Times could be really miserable. And these are the days when your face hurts when you smile.
Anyone who knows me the very least would have the sense to ignore my pessimistic phase and give me chocolates.:)

Tomorrow could be different, not better, just different (*wink)

Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer?

"Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop " - Meredith Grey.

I guess this is true. I've been called a masochist. Cliche. Drama Queen.

I'm so redundant with my sad stories. In thoughts and in deeds. I keep on getting my own rocks to hit me in the head. I sense something isn't gonna do me any good and what do I do? I stand on my ground and get stubborn and patient and in the end-- vulnerable.

Why do I keep on hitting myself? 'Coz at some point it's worth my while. Then I wait. When the hammer tires. Or Until... I get tired.

Whichever comes first, I stop then that's when the good feeling comes.

Tipsy

Tipsy. This is one thing that others tell you and you take their word for it. They say your far too chatty then you say I am chatty then they say , no more than your usual. Then you shush. Tipsy. You feel great - yeba! I wanna get dwunk, or tipsy. You feel bad then you again say, I wanna go home drunk to my sleep, or maybe tipsy. But then again you never know. You never know if you've achieved it or not. They'll just tell you how you were the night before. There are so many ways to be drunk / tipsy (to be socially correct). No one wants to be told drunk, right? You always want people to know you can still have more and beg off by saying I'm just tipsy hopefully that should close the deal- the drinking deal. How do people get drunk? or tipsy? Some are sleeping beauties, flirts, diplomats, anger-management-potentials, political wannabees, caregiver-patient-candidates, and plain bores. Well, I guess there's more. Tonight, I am tipsy. Spilling my heartaches and hiding my pains. Blabbering like everything's fine. But that's not the creme-a-la-top. I went to a girly bar. Ahuh. Nope they did not get naked, thank you!. It was awkward to see girls grinding it in their two piece and glum faces. I don't knwo who's more pathetic: them "reluctant" girls doing their job. Or me watching them? Please note. I was dragged by a group of guy friends and another girl was with me. But then again, hw much more sorry can my lovelife be? Or the lack thereof? I'm posting this blog in future regret. Yes, I'm tipsy. You couldn't imagine the many times I've pressed backspace and retyped. Anymore typo errors and the heck with it. I try my best. Tipsy? It makes you feel alone when u go home. It makes you want to sleep. Bitter reality sinks in. And attacks. They're wrong. You don't forget about it but somehoe you get temporary courage laugh at it and say I'll be fine. And you'll need these moments. The times you actually convince yourself of real life. It sucks. But it's here. Tipsy or not.
P.S. I'd still say I've a better figure than those girls in the bar wehehe. I could maybe dance better too, then again. maybe not. Tipsy. ZZZZzzzz

6 Feet Under or Cloud 9

Weird Title huh?
I was browsing around a jobsearch engine when I saw this ad for a company that I applied to online almost 2 years ago. I was scheduled for an interview on Valentines Day. In Makati. I thought what the hell, I'll let it pass, I don't want to be late to my yearly feb14 date with my reppy friends (reppy for repertory). I didn't go. Later I heard of the bus bombing at Ayala MRT.
Shit.
I could have been there. My interview was sked in the afternoon and most likely, if, I went, I would have been on my way home that time, yes, I'll be there at the Ayala MRT Station.
Boom.
Thank God, I love my friends more than the potential-succesful-interview-and-possible-great-job.
Haha.
And today, I see them again, putting up an ad.
Tsk Tsk.
It could be two things:
I could be their Marketing Manager for 2 years now. In Cloud 9 with my moolah and stability, who knows maybe even a boyfriend. (wink)
Or
I could be 6 feet under.

is being too forgiving unforgivable?

my friends would not forgive me for forgiving him. Whadya know, the closure and depression dude I was blogging about just apologized. I'm no strong person. I'm not proud. An apology for me is an apology. For days, I couldn't do anything coz I keep thinking about it. How I hate him and how really I don't. So when he apologized, I accepted it. But the questions are still left unturned. Not tonight. This evening, his Sorry would put me to sleep.

Perhaps tomorrow...

Author's Personal Note

In the midst of my downpour of emotions with high hopes that no one I know reads my crap:

The bestfriend thing is not the same as the closure and the depression. That's a totally different story. You see, I started this year being left by the guy I'm in love with for almost a year now, losing my bestfriend because he has crossed over to the marriage line, and dumbfounded with my career path.

I'm immobile. Let my hands move me closer to a different tommorow. Not better , just different.

Work : Antidote for Misery?

Not really, they say business is cure for the broken-hearted. Not true. I'm still miserable and the fact that I'm still thinking of it while working meaning I'm not really working makes me even more depressed.

If I could still remember the whole name of my crush when I was still in kinder 1 how could I forget about what just happened last week? It has crossed my mind a hundred and one times, different versions, crazy, sane, insane endings. But it's not close to reality. Because my real life isn't moving. The toes that I could very much feel are still at the crossroads only it couldn't cross. The sign has turned green but I'm still there, restless and in fear.

Work makes your mind occupied, true. But have you checked your heart? Mine has stopped.

*personal note: give me a few more days to get up...

My Bestfriend's Wedding Part 2

I woke up early morning to buy a dress. Ended up quite bigger than my size I even had my mom sew the straps. It was a nice white dress - not too gowny or showy or striking - makes an I'm-just-here-to-attend statement. And I was just there at the groom's side, along with high school friends, being quiet - when we were called to take pictures with the newly-weds. Sheesh. Do we really now? Like I can runaway from it. So we went; my friends started shaking hands with my bestfriend and when he saw me, he pulled me close to him and hugged me real tight. You know that awkward moment when you're about to beso with someone and your face leans to the right and left like a cha cha cha to make sure its the cheeks that meet: it was so weird that it was happening when he was right beside his wife, both of them in their pretty whites. So I felt compelled to go to the bride and say something, thank God their's Best Wishes.

We went to the reception I saw his mom, his family, and I felt at home. Somebody even asked if I was married already, you know what answered that? The calling of my name by the emcee to catch the bouquet (I told you!) So me and my girlfriends did it, good thing was it was Pass the Bouquet and they play music and if it stops and you're still holding it you're out: I did not let go till I was out. There is no way I'm catching their flower power. We just finished that and we left for it's still an hour and a half drive home.

We said goodbyes. He hugged me even tighter and thanked me. That was while his wife was dancing with the dad. There was the casual see you. And then we let go.

Before we got on the elevator, he went to me again and embraced me and I felt the love that our friendship has nurtured for 11 years. He kissed my hair one last time and I left.

Drowning

Do you know how it feels when you're so tired swimming : your legs are numb, you can't move your hands, barely put your head up to catch another breath, and you feel that everything is just getting smaller and smaller. That's what I feel now: drowning. Every second I feel like sinking at the bottom.

That's what hurt does to me.

My Bestfriend's Wedding

Tomorrow, is, My Bestfriend's Wedding. My first love. My friend of 11 years. He was my Enemy #1 at freshman year. He made me cry. I went to his dad (our Computer teacher) he was told to apologize, he did. He made me cry a lot more times after that. I'd cry whenever he got himself a new girlfriend. I'd cry when i miss him. I should cry right now. I miss him. And I feel like I'm losing him forever. He's getting married. The vows. The dress, the suit, the motiff. Did you know he even asked me or must I say begged me (together with his mom) to be his bridesmaid? That wouldn't have turned out right. Now I'm not sure if I can drag myself to even attend. Should I dress up? Show up? What if he asks me to make a speech? Or catch the bouquet? But I guess the real worry is, what if he does not see me at all? I'll write a post after, if I would have gone or not. I told him I will be at his back for whatever he wishes to do. That's what bestfriends do right? Pledge. For good times and bad. Though his best times maybe my worst. His happiness may be my pain. But I will carry on. For richer and poorer. In sickness and in health. I shall be his friend. Till death do us part.

Closure

Closure.
A very tricky word. It always ends up bad. It's like the seal the deal of a relationship that didn't work. A confirmation of loss. Acceptance of defeat. The Letting Go.

Does closure really work? When you cut the strings are they really gone? I don't know how they do it. I don't do closure. You know, the talking and yes I love you but. Yes I care for you but. Yes we had something but. The but. Then it will follow with the saddest Take Care.

They say you need it. Like I need it. Like I need anymore of those break-up words , the parting eyes, and the flimsy tears.

I resent to feel anymore hurt.